


Plant Sugar

by deciding



Category: Queen of the South (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Kid Fic, Other, Parent-Child Relationship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29625933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deciding/pseuds/deciding
Summary: It was when James and Teresa’s qualities started bleeding together and coexisting, when they took on the best of each other, that they began to thrive. Especially in their future together.
Relationships: Teresa Mendoza & James Valdez, Teresa Mendoza/James Valdez
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Plant Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I had an explanation or justification for why _this_ is my Jeresa future fic idea. But I don't.

James refocused his attention when he felt warmth settle on top of his chest. He squared up his hips and adjusted his arms when he recognized it was Teresa who snapped him out of his stupor. Her chin was resting on top of her linked hands, over James’ sternum. She was grinning down at him.

Brushing a thumb over the bare skin of her back where her shirt had ridden up, James greeted her, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

James angled his face to nudge his nose against Teresa’s and pressed his lips to hers in a soft kiss, for no particular reason.

“You’ve been staring off into space with this dreamy look for like the past ten minutes,” Teresa told him. “I did my entire skincare routine uninterrupted.”

They’d fallen into an end of day routine after so long together. James liked to shower before dinner, after he worked out, which meant he was already in bed by the time Teresa strolled into the room. James passively watched sports highlights while Teresa showered, and after, they caught up on the parts of their day not appropriate for the dinner table, conversing with the door of the master bathroom open while Teresa did her skincare. 

“Oh,” James said with mild surprise in his voice. “Sorry. I didn’t even realize. My mind wandered.”

“It’s weird seeing you smiling so innocently for so long,” Teresa answered, raising an eyebrow. “Who are you and what did you do with my husband?”

The slight jab at his personality earned Teresa a slight chuckle from James. But inside, he was warm with the comfort and familiarity of the way she said _husband_. It flowed naturally, like an extension of her, because they were extensions of each other.

They were going on three years of marriage, but they’d been together for almost a decade. Even that seemed short after everything they’d been through (the time they’d spent to build up an empire in order to walk away from it in the end felt like a lifetime in and of itself) since the day they met.

James had lightened up a lot since then—it was easier to let loose when they were no longer in chronic proximity to danger, once they could _live_ instead of survive. And it had taken them a while to get there. They almost didn’t make it so many times.

James was more than content with the way his future turned out; being at the core of operating a drug cartel meant always being _on_ , and it took its toll, so retirement from that business with the person he loved at his side was more than he could have ever hoped for. But old habits were hard to shake. James’ smiles were still too few and far between for someone who’d come out on top on the other side. It was something he was working on.

“Still here,” he teased, “sincere.”

Teresa rolled her eyes. James’ words were in reference to a toast from their wedding reception, from a plastered King George. The man had a flair for the dramatic, and even in his state of half past drunk, he’d pulled a napkin out of his pocket to read the heartfelt speech he prepared for the bride and groom. Except he couldn’t read his own handwriting with his bleary eyes—and he insisted no one should read the speech for him—so he just slurred out the three words he _could_ make out: _still here, sincere_.

On their honeymoon in Belize, Teresa and James had laughed about how somehow George had made the most memorable toast at the reception, three words jumbled together that created a new meaning. They still said the phrase to each other every once in a while as a term of endearment.

Teresa reached for James’ left hand and held it up in front of her face while she unclasped the watch from his wrist. James had worn the same watch since they’d met, and it had been a nice one, but it reminded her too much of the business they’d retired from for her liking, because he’d always been wearing it back in those days. She’d gotten him a very sleek, very expensive watch as a wedding present, with the date of their union engraved on the back. He loved it, and Teresa loved that he loved it, but she hated when he fell asleep wearing it. They always went to bed wrapped around each other and she’d woken up to her hair caught between the chain links of the bracelet before. Since then, she made sure to take it off of his wrist each night as they were settling in for bed.

“I hope you were thinking about me when you were looking like that,” Teresa said coyly.

James was pretty sure he always had a dopey look on his face whenever he was around her, because of her, regardless of how long they’d been together.

“It’s cute how you think any of my thoughts about you are innocent,” he said instead.

Teresa gave James a slap to the chest but snickered. James held his hand over hers and flashed her a wolfish grin, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud. He liked that they were openly flirtatious with each other, liked that Teresa was so receptive. In the early years of knowing each other, she’d been so guarded James couldn’t have imagined he’d be the person she would allow herself to become most vulnerable with.

“So are you going to tell me what you got all googly-eyed over?” Teresa asked as she set James’ watch down on the table next to his side of the bed.

“I was _not_ googly-eyed,” James retorted with emphasis.

“You’re missing the point here,” Teresa said dismissively. She moved off him and settled in against the pillows in the middle of the bed but angled herself toward James’ shoulder. “Tell me.”

James slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, much like they’d been when she snapped him out of his daze moments before. One of the soft smiles Teresa had classified as innocent returned to James’ face when she curled in closer to him. 

“Sammy told me what she wants for her birthday,” he revealed.

They’d only been out of the business for six months when Teresa found out she was pregnant. Not that they’d been trying, but not that they’d been surprised either. Right before retirement, they bought an expansive wine estate in Monterey County where they would build their home, and fresh out of the business, they’d had a lot more time on their hands than ever before. 

Samantha Leigh Autry was born a little over seven months later. She was the first real member of the Autry family; it had been a blessing not to have to decide whose last name she should take on. Autry was an old alias used by James, but it wasn’t Mendoza or Valdez—it didn’t belong to either of them—so it was a name that could be _theirs_ , like Samantha was theirs. They both changed their legal names to match Samantha’s when they got married a little over a year later, when their toddler was old enough to walk down the aisle to be their flower girl.

“Oh, good,” Teresa said, relieved. The information James acquired was information they’d been trying to get out of their little girl for the last month, and every time it came up Samantha pointedly told them she was still deciding. “So is it the Barbie Dreamhouse or the Wilderness Survival Kit with bear spray?”

“Bear spray?”

“She learned about it from one of those PBS Kids shows, thought it was really cool,” Teresa recalled.

“Okay—no. No bear spray.” James shook his head. “She wants a puppy.”

“Oh.” After a beat, Teresa groaned, “The main floor of our house is going to be covered in puppy pads for weeks.”

James didn’t have any protest or hesitation about getting their daughter a pet for her fourth birthday. Between the two of them, Teresa was the disciplinarian parent for sure. Samantha was a total daddy’s girl, with James wrapped around her little finger seemingly willing to walk to the end of the earth to make her smile. James was someone who had little patience for everyone’s personal bullshit when his days had been full of interactions with narcos and snitches, but with his daughter he had all the patience in the world. They spent a ton of time together—he worked from home a lot more than Teresa—so any pet Samantha got would ultimately be his responsibility.

But instead of clarifying with Teresa that house training a puppy varied depending on breed and age, he went toward the opposite extreme. He went with the reason Teresa had caught him smiling off into space. 

“I think we should get her a pony,” James said.

Teresa made a sound in her throat like she was choking on air.

“I must be really tired,” Teresa exhaled. “I thought you just suggested we get Sammy a pony.”

The same dreamy smile James had on his face when Teresa walked over to the bed reappeared and he quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Wait, you _did_ say that?” Teresa was incredulous.

“Listen—”

“You can’t be serious,” Teresa interrupted.

“Listen,” James repeated. “Just hear me out.”

Teresa grumbled his name, “James…”

This was something he’d been doing once Samantha was out of her toddler years and a better communicator, speaking full sentences and expressing herself better, letting them know what went through her mind and what she was interested in. James had always had a good ticker on people, so to speak – he could read them well. Samantha was no exception, and because she was his daughter, James was always looking for ways to get a smile and squeal of delight out of her. His ideas tended to be gallant and ridiculous. Cartel or no cartel, he’d never been one to do something halfway.

“I end up watching _My Little Pony_ with Sammy every day. She loves Twilight Sparkle, but not as much as Rainbow Dash,” James began, dropping knowledge, “and the horse Kelly Anne sent her is her favorite stuffed animal, you know? Hermy?”

Samantha received a small plush horse from Kelly Anne for Christmas the year before, and she was very attached to it. She brought it to teatime, it sat on the couch with her, she had its little beady eyes facing the window whenever they were in the car, and she snuggled with it when she went to sleep. Teresa had read on a parenting forum that other parents had identical ‘backups’ of their children’s favorite comfort object, in case it discolored in the laundry or if it lost a limb and the stuffing came out, or something equally horrific.

So they’d gotten another one and it was stashed somewhere in the back of the closest in the master bedroom, just in case. But Teresa and James both hoped Sammy’s little horsey—Hermy, as it was named—wouldn’t fall apart anytime soon, because Hermy was made in Italy, by artisans, and Kelly Anne shouldn’t have gotten their daughter a stuffed animal from a French fashion house that made iconic handbags. Plush horses like Hermy were supposed to be novelty display items, not comfort objects.

“Yes, well aware of who Hermy is,” Teresa sighed, deadpan.

“Exactly, so we know Sammy will totally be into a pony. Just think about it, she can take riding lessons, brush it down, maybe feed it some carrots once in a while,” James went on. “Besides it being cute, and Sammy being cute with it, she would love it.”

James could already picture himself carrying Samantha, holding her up so she could help groom, and how much she’d want to hug the pony and sneak snacks to it in her tiny hands.

“It would be cute and she would love it,” Teresa agreed, “but I think you’re describing a _yearling_ , not a pony.”

“Semantics,” James scoffed. “Sammy’s still gonna call it a pony.”

He was, in fact, talking about a young horse that would grow to full size in time, not a miniature horse (which was a pony by definition). But all he could hear in his head was what Samantha’s squeal would sound like when she exclaimed _A pony!_ excitedly. He could explain the difference between a pony and a yearling later on.

“Where would we keep it?” Teresa asked with hesitation. “We don’t have the facilities for a horse.”

From James’ perspective, hesitation was one step closer to Teresa being in agreeance.

“Honey, we live in Monterey,” James reminded her. “There are stables where all the parents board their kids’ horses a few miles down the road.”

The coastline was where their estate began, with a walkway built into the cliffs leading down to the beach—a beach only the Autrys and two neighboring families had access to. The house and infinity pool overlooked the water. The vineyard and winery were on the far inland side of their sprawling estate, a few minutes’ drive away. The area was full of wineries and B&Bs. And like James had said, there was a full-service equestrian center nearby, with a very country club-like atmosphere, because if the citizens of Monterey County were paying stupid amounts of money for their equine housing and care, it had to look the part.

Teresa’s eyes widened. “Do you think Sammy’s already behind? Do you think she’s going to start school and half the kids are already going to be showjumping?”

It was a common theme for Teresa – worrying Samantha wouldn’t be ‘on track’ when she started kindergarten the next fall. James thought it was _them_ Teresa was really worried about though, with the PTA meetings and fundraisers and bake sales they’d have to get involved in. Their lives had been quiet since retirement from illicit activity, and they’d kept mostly to themselves, operating the winery and letting the money they’d left the business with grow in smart investments and the restaurants on the waterfront back in New Orleans. The official details on how the Autrys had built their fortune was laid out and well documented with a carefully fabricated paper trail; only those from their past lives knew the truth.

They’d done everything the hard way, went to extreme lengths to make amends with friends and enemies so they could live freely, so Samantha could just be a kid. They didn’t want to homeschool her and only let her interact with the kids of people they already knew, the kids with parents from a different life. They wanted Samantha to have regular social interactions and make her own friends. They didn’t want to rob her of valuable experiences because of who they were, or who they’d been. And that meant they’d have to blend in, be the overzealous parents with a kid going to the best school that required a two-year waiting list.

“No, I don’t think four- and five-year-olds are going to already be showjumping,” James said. “She won’t even be able to ride a yearling, not yet – she’ll visit it and take care of it. They’ll grow up together in the next year. Four is pretty young to start riding.”

“We’re gonna pay people to board this thing so she can pet it?” Teresa screeched. “Is it a horse or a _unicorn_?”

James chuckled and squeezed Teresa’s shoulder. “She can still take the riding lessons, on a different horse. That’s usually how it goes, I think.”

Teresa bit her lip. “And what if she hates riding lessons? What if the novelty wears off and she doesn’t want the horse anymore?”

“We’ll sell it to Boaz. He still runs the cartel races, right?” James frowned. “Do you really think Sammy won’t want a pony?”

“Of course she’ll want it. What four-year-old wouldn’t? And what four-year-old actually gets one?” Teresa responded. “I’m just trying to be the voice of reason for you and your big ideas.”

It didn’t seem so long ago James was always the one to be the voice of the reason. He was more of a logical thinker and Teresa was more of an emotional one. It was when their qualities started bleeding together and coexisting, when they took on the best of each other, that they began to thrive.

James poked Teresa in the ribs lightly. “So what’s the verdict?”

With a sigh and a smile that made her nose wrinkle, Teresa replied, “I guess we’re getting Sammy a pony for her birthday.”

The wistful, dreamy look returned to James’ face. It was a look of love, one he could only emote because of his family, because he had his family.

He clicked his tongue and got in close to Teresa so they were both rested on one pillow and their foreheads were nearly touching. “Told you it’s a pony,” James whispered.

Teresa slid her hand over his cheek and kissed him to shut him up, to keep him from gloating. It was a pony, semantics be damned.

They broke apart after a few more kisses but didn’t move away to give each other any breathing room, James holding Teresa close.

“But listen, James,” Teresa ran her thumb over his jawline affectionately, “if Sammy told you she wants a puppy…”

Teresa buried her face in James’ chest and sighed against him. She tilted her chin up to look back at him and her next words came almost regretfully: “She’s gonna love the pony, but if Sammy said she wants a puppy, we should get her a puppy.”

“Both?”

Teresa cringed at how ridiculous her side of the discussion was. Not only was she consenting to the prospect of _two_ animals, but she was the one making the suggestion. “Yes.”

James flashed her a genuine smile, teeth and all.

“Don’t worry.” James dropped a kiss to Teresa’s shoulder. “I thought you might say that. I already called the local SPCA.”

\-----

As it turned out, finding a puppy from a reputable no-kill shelter was much more complicated than getting a yearling from a horse breeder. James thought he had a lead on a puppy from the local humane society, but the youngest dog they had was already a year old. California had an abundance of shelter pets in need of good homes, but most were older, or strays, or feral, or all of the above. If it was only him and Teresa, the most fragile and wounded would do—Teresa had a thing for strays, he remembered telling Lil’ T that once—but Samantha had specifically asked for a _puppy_. It would be difficult to explain to a four-year-old that older shelter pets needed love and attention as much as purebreds or puppies without breaking her heart and ending up adopting an entire kennel of rescue dogs.

Teresa laughed about it when they discussed it at night during the last two weeks leading up to Samantha’s birthday, when James’ search extended down to Southern California and even the Lake Tahoe area of Nevada. He’d tracked Teresa down in Malta and then in New Orleans on separate occasions, after many months out of communication. But a suitable puppy for their daughter had proven to be more difficult.

Visalia turned out to be their saving grace. Down in Visalia, a pregnant dog had been brought in off the streets to the humane society a few months before and it immediately gave birth to a litter of seven puppies. Teresa and James had both gasped when they saw the pictures of the available puppy. The interview and paperwork process happened quickly; the Autrys were squeaky clean, and the director of the shelter gushed over their willingness to get their kid an unconventional puppy from an unconventional source. Most parents had no imagination, she said, opting for goldens or labs. Retrievers were great pets, and especially good with kids, but the shelter director always cheered for the underdog—pun intended.

James couldn’t sleep the night before Samantha’s birthday. He and Teresa planned it out. They’d greet Samantha in the morning with breakfast. They’d let her choose what she wanted for lunch before they brought her over to the stables, where they’d introduce Samantha to her new animal pals. The anticipation got James excited, and James was not really an excitable person.

When Teresa went into Samantha’s room in the morning, their little girl was up, already awake and in her own world, head in the clouds. Samantha clicked her tongue to make the sound of hooves moving across the ground and she mimicked the action by pouncing Hermy’s plush feet across the side of her big girl bed. Teresa beamed and chuckled under her breath. Samantha was going to have the best birthday ever.

“Good morning, baby,” Teresa said loud enough to snap Samantha back to reality.

“Mommy!” Samantha squeaked back, surprised, strategically standing Hermy up facing the door before waving enthusiastically at Teresa. “What are you doing here?”

To her credit, Samantha was well adjusted to the daily ins and outs of her parents’ routines. The Autrys had set themselves up financially such that they didn’t have to work, but they were also not the kind of people who were good at idling, living in leisure. It was why Teresa kept up the winery and James kept up the restaurant business. On weekdays, Teresa was already off to work before Samantha woke up and Samantha didn’t know her mother kissed her on the forehead every morning before she left. Every night, Samantha’s parents tucked her in and Teresa would read Samantha a bedtime story—or three—after James gave her a hug and kiss goodnight. But in the mornings, it was James she was used to getting her up and ready for the day.

“No work today,” Teresa explained as she approached the bed, “I’m spending all day with you and Daddy. It’s a big day for you.”

“Because you’re the boss!” Samantha giggled.

James and Teresa—but especially James—had impressed upon Samantha that her mother was a woman in charge, and it was something to aspire to be. He talked Teresa up so much that Samantha, young as she was, couldn’t think of anything better than the career her mom had, being a girl boss. 

Teresa sat down on the edge of Samantha’s bed and moved the mess of dark curly hair out of the little girl’s face to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, _mija_.”

Samantha shifted, tucking Hermy under her arm and snuggling into her mother’s side. “Thanks, Mommy. Love you.”

Teresa squeezed Samantha tightly. “I love you infinity times infinity.”

Samantha reached over and traced an infinity symbol onto Teresa’s wrist with her pointer finger to show she understood, and Teresa nodded encouragingly. 

(The depths of love were beyond Samantha’s comprehension, but she knew infinity was at least as long as forever. Teresa had explained it to her one day when Samantha was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island. Teresa had taken her rings off to chop vegetables and asked Samantha to make sure they didn’t go missing, and Samantha asked what the symbol etched on the inside of Teresa’s wedding ring meant.)

James watched his girls from the threshold, not wanting to interrupt the sweet moment. In his youth, he’d never seen the big deal about family and family loyalty, because he’d never had a good one. Being in the military had taught him his sense of loyalty and camaraderie. His biggest takeaway from cartel politics and hierarchy was the meaning of found family. But the family he’d made with Teresa, in adulthood, was his real family. He felt lucky to have them every day.

It was Teresa who would break the moment when she looked up and caught his eye. He put a finger to his lips but she shook her head. 

“Sammy, look, I think someone else wants to greet you,” Teresa said.

“Hi Daddy,” Samantha’s eyes lit up, spotting what James was holding in his hand, “wh—what’s that?”

James strolled into the room casually and set the plate down on the bed, taking a seat on the ground next to it. “What do you think it is?” he asked.

“A cupcake,” Samantha whispered tentatively, peering at the rainbow sprinkles carefully, like the treat would disappear or be taken away if she guessed wrong.

“That’s right.”

“Bu—but it’s breakfast time, Daddy.”

“Sammy, did you know when it’s your birthday, you can have treats for breakfast?”

“Really?” Samantha breathed excitedly, sitting up.

“Yeah, really?” Teresa echoed in a much less excited tone. 

James stifled his amusement at both of them. 

“Yes. _Really_.” James leaned forward and kissed Samantha’s forehead before picking the plate back up to hold the cupcake out to her. “Happy Birthday, pumpkin.” 

As Samantha dug in, getting frosting all over her face and crumbs all over her bed, her parents explained they could get anything she wanted for lunch—granted it was a proper meal and not more sugary treats—and there was an after lunch surprise for her.

In typical four-year-old fashion, and because she’d just turned four, Samantha’s lunch request was a very modest bowl of baked ziti from the mall food court. Of all traits she could have inherited from James, Teresa was always surprised how low maintenance Samantha was. Like her father, Samantha didn’t have many expectations (surprisingly mature for a child) and was quite aloof. 

Teresa thought their daughter’s similarities to James were why he felt like he had to go to extremes to impress her, because although Teresa had him all figured out, he himself was hard to impress.

He drove from the mall to the stables quietly, with his anxious energy evident in his fingers, tapping against the steering wheel with his left hand and running his thumb along his other fingers. The drive inland on Route 68 lulled Samantha into an afternoon nap and her parents didn’t have to worry about hiding the surprise because she was still asleep when they drove through the ranch-like entrance gates. The Autrys sat in the car for an extra ten minutes before Teresa woke Samantha up, figuring she could use the nap ahead of all the excitement in store for her. 

Samantha was cranky in her grogginess.

“Ready for your surprise, _mija_?” Teresa asked, unbuckling Samantha from her car seat.

Samantha softened at Teresa’s warm tone; just like her dad with a tough exterior but a total marshmallow on the inside. She looked out the window and smelled the air. Earthiness lingered without the effect of the ocean winds on the coast.

“Where are we?” Samantha wondered with a big yawn, Hermy clutched tightly in her hands. She’d only gotten about a 20-minute nap in during the drive. 

The parking lot gave nothing away, surrounded by sequoias and pines.

“Okay, close your eyes,” Teresa instructed. “We’re gonna walk over there.”

“Bu—but if I’ll trip if I can’t see,” Samantha said logically.

“I know, baby.” Teresa nodded. “Daddy will carry you.”

“Oh,” Samantha hummed, setting Hermy down onto the backseat beside her with a soft pat. “Okay.”

James already had the other door to the backseat of the truck open. He tucked his aviator sunglasses into the breast pocket of his jacket and smiled at Samantha before scooping her up in his arms as she closed her eyes.

Teresa shut the car doors behind them and walked shoulder to shoulder with James down the pathway past the trees, toward the round pen where Samantha’s first surprise was already waiting. After buying the horse and getting it moved into the stables, James had explained the birthday present situation to the staff who helped out on move-in day. They’d pretty much shrugged and asked what time they should have the filly out in one of the pens, like it was a common request from parents who boarded their kids’ horses there.

“Hey,” James warned lightly, without malice in his tone, “no peeking.”

Samantha squeaked and squeezed her eyes shut even tighter than they already were, tucking her head into James’ chest.

“I won’t! I promise!” Samantha’s voice was muffled by the fabric of James’ shirt.

Teresa and James exchanged soft smiles as they approached the round pen. Teresa unlatched the gate and opened it just wide enough for them to shuffle through. She grabbed the small plastic container dangling on a string, draped over one of the pen’s steel posts.

James made light footsteps and set Samantha down where the two of them were in filly’s line of sight, a good distance away so they didn’t spook it. It was obvious the equestrian center staff had been taking great care of it since arrival the week before; its coat was shining and it didn’t kick or chuff at the sight of them.

“Okay, pumpkin,” James said endearingly, “you can open your eyes now.”

Samantha’s gaze was downcast when she first opened her eyes and saw the contrast of the dirt against her clean Rainbow Dash sneakers. She looked up slowly and the gasp fell from her mouth before the squeal.

“A pony!” 

The way Samantha said it was just as James expected, music to his ears. Teresa kicked him in the shin with the toe of her boot, rolling her eyes, and James had to cough into his sleeve to keep from laughing.

“Sammy, this is Callie,” James crouched down to Samantha’s eye level. “Isn’t she great?”

“Callie,” Samantha repeated in awe. “I like that name. Pretty pony.”

“Yes, very pretty,” James agreed. “You think you and Callie could be friends?”

Samantha nodded emphatically. “Yes! Friends with Callie!”

“Good. I’m glad,” James grinned and made the big reveal, “because Callie is for you. She’s your pony.”

It took a few seconds to register before Samantha’s big brown eyes widened.

“Mine?” she clarified. “ _My_ pony?”

“That’s right,” James confirmed.

Samantha gasped again and flailed her hands in the air before jumping up and down in place.

“My pony!” she buzzed with excitement. When she ran straight into Teresa, she reached out to steady herself against one of Teresa’s legs but carried on excitedly. “Mommy, Mommy, I have a pony!”

Teresa chuckled. “You should thank Daddy. This was all his idea.”

Samantha didn’t need to be told twice, hopping back toward James and launching herself straight into his waiting arms. He stood up and spun her around a few times, adding to the squeals of laughter as she sung his praises.

“What do you say, Sammy,” James asked happily, “you want to pet Callie?”

“Can I?”

“Of course, silly,” he said. “As long as Callie’s okay with it. She’ll let us know. So listen, when we get very close to her, keep your voice low, okay? Quiet giggles only. No screeching.”

James adjusted Samantha against his side as she agreed, so she’d be able to reach out and touch the horse.

“We want to make sure Callie can always see us when we’re around her, okay? If we can see her eyes then she can see us,” James explained. “We don’t want to spook her.”

“Mmkay,” Samantha agreed as they got closer. “No ghost business.”

“Now hold your hand out like this so she can smell you first,” James demonstrated by holding his palm upturned near the filly’s face without shoving it straight under her nostrils.

“Um…”

“It’s okay, she won’t bite you,” James said, sensing apprehension from his daughter. “She just needs to know you’re a friend.”

Samantha laid her much smaller hand on top of James’ and after a moment Callie actually brought her head closer to their faces. Samantha glowed with pride.

“Good,” James gave positive reinforcement. “Now you can pet her shoulder.”

He demonstrated before Samantha went for it, making sure she saw him pet with a rubbing motion against Callie’s glossy cinnamon-colored coat and not a patting one.

It was more magical when Samantha did it, her eyes lighting up and a beaming smile taking over her cheeks. “Whoa,” she whispered. “Softer than Hermy.”

“Pretty cool, huh?” James asked. “Listen, Callie will let you pet her a little bit, but the reason her fur is soft and shiny is because people take good care of her. Now she’s your pony, so you’ll help, right? That’s how you can be a good friend to her.”

Samantha’s nods were vigorous. “I wanna help.”

James spared Samantha of the gritty details of cleaning hooves and veterinary care and mucking out stalls. That was what the nice bill the equestrian center would send them every month would be for. But it wouldn’t hurt for Samantha to know how to brush down a horse or be around for exercise, even if she couldn’t ride the filly yet.

“You wanna feed her?” James wondered.

Each new suggestion was mind-boggling and earth-shattering for Samantha. “We can feed her?”

James brought Samantha back over to where Teresa was standing. Teresa took the lid off the container she’d retrieved earlier and held it out to Samantha.

“What’s that?” 

“It’s sugarcane,” Teresa explained, “a treat for Callie. Like sugar cubes, so we can’t give her too much. But the sugar is still inside the plants.”

The sugarcane was cut up in small pieces and Samantha grabbed as big a handful as her tiny fist would allow.

“Plant sugar?” Samantha asked curiously.

Teresa smiled. “Exactly.”

“You’re so smart, pumpkin,” James told his daughter encouragingly, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Neither of Samantha’s parents felt the need to explain that all sugar, even the refined kind, came from plants. They were proud of her for getting the gist of the definition anyway.

James brought Samantha back over to Callie and instructed her to offer the food up with an open palm, reminding her to keep her voice low. She managed to keep it together, big brown eyes wide when Callie accepted the food from her. Samantha kept her jaw wired shut and snorted her laughter, to stop the high-pitched squeals of her giggles from ringing out right next to Callie’s ears.

It was the first time Teresa and James heard her react in such a way and they laughed out loud in their lower voices.

“Daddy,” Samantha hissed, “her tongue is all slimy! It tickles.”

“I think this is a success, Sammy,” James told her. “You and Callie are definitely friends now.”

“Can we come back to do this again tomorrow, and tomorrow after that?” Samantha asked earnestly. “Callie’s so much fun.”

James was full of so much pride because he’d been right—Samantha loved the new experience of being around her pony and she already wanted to experience it again. She wasn’t even grossed out by Callie eating out of her hand, just ticklish. She’d had so much fun, exuded so much joy, that she didn’t even ask about riding.

“Of course, pumpkin,” James promised, “we can come any day you want.”

Samantha leaned her head against James’ shoulder and admired her pony. She cooed and raised her hands in the air like she was fist pumping. 

A stable hand wearing the polo uniform with the equestrian center’s insignia embroidered into it approached the Autrys, clearing his throat to make his presence known and get their attention. Teresa opened the gate for him and he placed a large package down on the dirt near the center of the pen. 

“Sorry…didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “I’m here to take Callie back to her stall…unless you’re not ready. Take your time.”

Teresa saw the lid of the package inch upward ever so slightly before settling back down so it was flush with the rest of the box.

“How about we say toodles to Callie for now, _mija_ ,” she suggested, weary of the second part of the surprise being ruined. “You can visit with her again tomorrow. I bet she would like it if you brushed her down.”

“Okay,” Samantha agreed, but it was hard to tell by her tone if she was agreeing begrudgingly or not. 

James and the stable hand waited for Samantha to pet Callie a few more times. “Bye bye, Callie. Talk tomorrow.”

If the stable hand was immune to adorable little kids and how they interacted with the horses, James was not. He couldn’t get over the way Samantha talked to her pony like they were best friends, and like they could have a nice long chat the next day. It was one of the most precious things he’d ever seen her do. It put him in awe that their little girl was so sweet and had such a big heart.

She even waved at the stable hand’s disappearing form as he led Callie out of the pen and through the yard toward the barn where Callie’s stall was.

James set Samantha down on the ground, on her own two feet, and she immediately started rambling a recap of her excitement. “I can’t wait to see Callie again tomorrow. I _love_ my pony, Daddy. Thank you! She’s the best and—”

Samantha stopped dead in her tracks and her speech paused for one long breath when she noticed the large package in the middle of the pen. 

“What’s that?” she demanded, looking back and forth between both her parents.

“It’s the second part of your surprise,” Teresa answered.

“ _More_ surprise?” Samantha gasped.

She walked right up to the package and pressed on the sparkly green paper bow in the corner, wrinkling it in the process. Samantha ran her fingers over the wrapping paper and stopped at the obvious holes punched into the top.

“Uh oh.” Samantha bit her lip.

“They’re air holes, _mija_ ,” Teresa said.

“Air holes?” Samantha’s tone went higher with new excitement, as if she had an idea of what a box with the need for air holes might contain. “For what?”

“You wanna open the box, Sammy?” James suggested. “Go on, Mommy will help you.”

Teresa crouched down behind the box and waited for Samantha to make the first move. When Samantha pulled up on the lid, Teresa gripped it on her side in case Samantha dropped it once she saw what was inside.

All bets were off when the lid came off and a head popped up, little paws coming to rest on the edge of the box. Samantha’s level of excitement was so high it knocked her back so she was sitting in the dirt.

“A puppy!” Samantha blubbered through her rapid breathing. “A puppy!”

Samantha’s energy was contagious and the puppy started jumping and running in short bursts around the space inside the box. When the puppy ran into the side of the box and wiped out, it quickly recovered, panting in place, looking up at Samantha sheepishly with one of its gigantic ears almost drooping over.

The air was filled with Samantha’s giggles, capped off with a little squeal at the end each time. She was so excited the squeals seemed to be out of her control. It was a good thing Callie had been brought back to the barn; the pony would not have tolerated the shrill sounds of sheer joy. 

Samantha was breathing fast, exchanging oxygen and carbon dioxide faster than usual. It was catching up to her, because soon the floodgates blew out and she outpoured emotion. She didn’t notice until it was too late.

“I’m s—so happy. I _love_ puppy so _much_ , it’s so _cute_ , I—I—I—”

Then Samantha was hyperventilating, her train of thought incomplete and her sentence melting into a fit that alternated between wails and shrieks. A look of horror took over her face as she realized she was freaking out, locking eyes with James.

“Hey, you’re okay,” James crouched down and placed a hand on Samantha’s back. “You’re okay, Sammy.”

James’ words of comfort did nothing to reassure Samantha, whose tears began to stream full force down her face, overwhelmed by the emotional high. 

Even the puppy sensed something was wrong, laying down and whimpering in the box. The action only served to further upset Samantha, who scrunched up her face and wailed harder.

“It’s all right, pumpkin,” James said, drawing Samantha into his arms. “Everything is fine.”

Samantha sobbed into his shoulder and Teresa hissed at him, “ _James_.”

Evidently, everything was not fine.

“Okay, okay,” James said, picking Samantha up and cradling her head protectively. “We’re going to the car. It’s okay.”

For as much as a past of high stakes organized crime was in the rearview mirror, James could take control of a situation and revert to crisis mode like the flip of a switch. Especially when the crisis involved his daughter. Even if the crisis was Samantha crying over how much she loved her new puppy.

James got Samantha back to the truck and held her in the backseat, rubbing her back while she cried it out. Being presented with such cute animals to love consecutively was too much. She needed a breather.

Her father knew her mind and heart were back in sync when the sobs subsided to sniffles and then hiccups. Shaky breaths evened out and he kissed the crown of her head when she fell asleep, cheek pressed to his shoulder. 

James moved Samantha into her car seat after a few minutes, careful to cushion her neck with the headrest. 

Teresa was standing outside the truck holding the puppy in her arms. The small dog had recovered from the whole wailing incident quickly, mouth open like it was smiling, tongue out, front paws curled neatly over Teresa’s shoulder. Still adorable for a tiny little thing who had caused such a ruckus.

Through the window, Teresa signaled to James as if asking if it was okay for her to bring the puppy into the SUV. James motioned at Samantha and Teresa leaned in closer to look at their daughter’s sleeping form through the tint of the window. Teresa pointed toward the back hatch, where they’d stashed the pet carrier before they left their house for lunch, for the drive home. James shrugged.

Samantha was not usually a sound sleeper during nap time. But she was exhausted from crying, the emotional high she’d gone through much more than any four-year-old could handle. It didn’t help either that her afternoon nap had been in the car on the way to the stables rather than in her bed with the shutters closed. James thought she might be okay, might sleep through the drive home after the ordeal at the stable.

Teresa went around to the back of the vehicle and waved her foot under the motion sensor to lift the door of the hatch. Samantha stirred at the pneumatic sound and James waved his hand around in view of the back panel of glass to signal to Teresa to abort, but the door had already lifted. Samantha hadn’t seen her yet because she was behind the backseat, but she backed away so Samantha wouldn’t hear any of the puppy’s noises and get worked up again.

Samantha had only been asleep for a few minutes and she groaned at the noise disturbance as she opened her eyes.

“Daddy?”

“Shhh, shhh,” James soothed, keeping his voice low and steady. “You’re all right, pumpkin. I’m here.”

Samantha was silent for a few seconds, rubbing her thumb against the pads of her other fingers, like James did when he was anxious. “I cried,” she said plainly after a few beats.

“It’s okay that you did, Sammy. It’s okay to cry,” James said gently.

“I know,” Samantha nodded, “but…but I was _happy_.”

James sighed internally, feeling incredibly guilty for bringing up this sort of confusion for Samantha on her fourth birthday, of all days. “Sometimes people cry when they’re happy. You were overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?”

“Yeah. Usually people cry when they’re sad or watch something sad, or when they get hurt. But did you know people can also laugh so hard they start crying? So people can get so happy and excited that they cry, too,” James explained. “You know, the day you were born, at the hospital, Mommy and I were _so_ happy to see you that we both cried. Uncle George, Tío Pote – they did, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” James admitted with affection, remembering the first time he ever got to hold Samantha. “We cried a lot.”

“Wow,” Samantha let out a giggle, amused and without a near-hyperventilating shriek this time. “So, so, so if you all cried when I was a baby, is puppy like my baby?”

James cracked a smile. “I guess so.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, pumpkin?”

“I…” Samantha trailed off, a conflicted look on her face, bottom lip quivering. “I can still keep puppy, right? Even if I cried?”

“Of course!” James answered quickly. “Of course, Sammy. That’s _your_ puppy. It’s my fault you got overwhelmed today – I’m sorry.”

Samantha exhaled a sigh of relief and James’ heart broke at the thought that Samantha was worried she might have to relinquish her new pet for crying at its cuteness. 

“No sorry, Daddy,” Samantha shook her head to disagree. “I love Callie and puppy. Thank you.”

James squeezed Samantha’s hand. She held no animosity in her big heart. It made him think the world could do so much better to be reminded of childhood innocence. It was the adults who were the real brats most of the time.

“You’re welcome, pumpkin,” James said warmly. “Listen, do you think you’re ready to see your puppy again? Can it stay with you back here until we get home?”

“Yes, please!” Samantha chirped.

“We can bring puppy back here if you think that’s okay,” James offered, then quickly added, “but you tell me if it’s too much, if it makes you want to cry again. Puppy can stay in the back, in the carrier, until we get home.”

“I’ll be okay,” Samantha spoke confidently. “No happy crying. Promise.”

When James signaled for Teresa to bring the puppy, he braced himself for more incoming squealing. But when Teresa opened the door to the backseat and tentatively held out the puppy, Samantha only cooed as her eyes lit up.

Teresa hovered when Samantha took the puppy into her lap so she could take it back if need be. Samantha pet the puppy, scratching between its neck and cheek, and it wagged its tail with content.

“So majestic,” Samantha mumbled to herself, but announced to her parents as well. 

James and Teresa exchanged knowing looks of relief without exchanging any words. _Majestic_ was one of the more advanced terms in Samantha’s growing vocabulary, and her use of it, for what she thought of her puppy, was perfect.

“Hey,” Teresa said, smoothing down Samantha’s hair, “this puppy needs a name. You want to pick a name, Sammy?”

“Ooh,” Samantha liked that thought. “Yes!”

Teresa was ready to tell Samantha she didn’t have to come up with a name immediately—she could spend the car ride home thinking about it—but Samantha posed a question: “What kind of doggie is puppy?”

“German Shepherd,” James supplied. “Mostly.”

Because the puppy’s mother was found on the street, there was no way for the shelter to know if the puppies were purebred, though the mother looked like a purebred herself. The humane society staff suspected the puppies were German Shepherds with hints of Rottweiler in their blood based on their coloring, black all over except for the paws, around the mouth and neck, and the patches just above the eyes—where their fur was a golden color instead. 

The puppy had been so cute in the pictures James saw—even more so in person when he picked the puppy up in Visalia, and Samantha’s reaction further emphasized just how cute—and he loved the notion of his little girl growing up with a dog that would not only be majestic (to take Samantha’s word choice), but could also be trained to be loving and loyal to her, to protect her if necessary. There was a reason German Shepherds were used for K9 units.

“Shep!” Samantha said forcefully after giving it some thought. 

“Shep?” Teresa echoed. “Is that puppy’s name?”

“Is that a good name?” Samantha wondered earnestly. 

James merely nodded with a smile, because it was Samantha’s puppy, so any name she picked was the right name.

“That’s a great name, baby,” Teresa said, working around Samantha and Shep to get Samantha buckled into the car seat. “Let’s go home.”

\-----

The evening that followed was exhausting. 

The Autrys went about with their normal routines. James worked out and showered before dinner. The family ate dinner together and sat on the back deck, watching the sky, trying to find Ursa Major while eating the rest of Samantha’s birthday cupcakes. When it was Samantha’s bedtime, her parents tucked her in and Teresa stayed behind to read her a book (or five). James watched sports highlights while Teresa showered and they cuddled in bed quietly for some time before either of them spoke, appreciating the stillness and quiet of nighttime in their home.

Everything they’d done in the evening was routine but adding a puppy into the mix had interrupted the flow of it all. Shep was a handful and Samantha was so enamored with her new puppy. After an afternoon of getting acquainted, Samantha spent the evening alternating between playing with Shep and watching Shep do little puppy things in awe; hardly paying attention when James pointed out Orion in the sky. Teresa’s camera roll was already full of pictures of Samantha with Shep, and Shep had been in their home—part of their family—for mere hours. 

Explaining to Samantha that, no, Shep could not sleep in her room had been a whole ordeal. Teresa rigged up the camera for Samantha’s old baby monitor in the den—where they’d set up puppy camp until Shep was fully house trained—and very deliberately set the baby monitor down on James’ bedside table when she came back into their room after reading to Samantha, before she went to shower. 

James had driven down to Visalia in the dead of night (so he could make it there before morning rush hour and also get back home with time to spare before Samantha’s bedtime) to pick up Shep a few days prior, and they’d kept the puppy at the winery, having the groundskeeper take care of it. On the afternoon of Samantha’s birthday, the groundskeeper had driven Shep over to the stables at lunchtime so the stable hand assigned to Callie could leave the puppy in the round pen when he took Callie back to her stall. From what Teresa and James heard, Shep had been a huge hit with the equestrian center staff, all of whom apparently wanted to take selfies and cuddle with the puppy before being taken back home by the Autrys.

But no longer was there a puppy babysitter of any kind. James fully expected he’d wake up to some iteration of Shep whining or barking on the baby monitor and he’d have to walk down to the main floor to attend to the puppy more than once that night.

“I seem to remember a time when you came up with ideas to keep us out of trouble,” Teresa sighed, cheek pressed into James’ chest. “But today was _all_ trouble.”

“What are you talking about?” James pressed circles into Teresa’s lower back. “Today was fun.”

“Fun?” Teresa repeated incredulously. “James, our daughter hyperventilated over her birthday presents.”

She made a face over how ridiculous it sounded and turned to bury her face into James’ chest.

“Kids are gonna get overexcited and work themselves up sometimes,” James said, nonchalant. “It’s okay.”

When Teresa didn’t respond right away and when James noticed her shoulders shaking, he frowned and slid his hand up her back and into her hair. 

“Aw, come on, honey. Sammy wasn’t harmed.” James tried to be reassuring. “She’s thrilled with her birthday haul.”

After a few more seconds, Teresa was really shaking, and when James shifted back he saw she was practically in tears. 

From laughing. 

Teresa was hysterical, her laughter so intense no sound came out, just a vibrating diaphragm and dry heaving.

“Shit, I thought you were genuinely upset,” James sighed.

“We made our kid cry because we overwhelmed her with too many cute animals,” Teresa wheezed. “Is that not the most adorable thing you’ve ever heard?”

“Well, yeah,” James confirmed with confidence. “Probably because Sammy is the cutest and a total bad-ass.”

It was something they reveled in and spoke about in hushed tones at least once a week, like they’d made off like bandits, having lucked their way into being parents of a daughter who was beautiful inside and out.

When she’d calmed down, Teresa shifted in bed so she could lean in close and brush the tip of her nose against James’. “Especially when she gets all serious.”

Everyone always mentioned how Samantha was a spitting image of her mother. James didn’t mind the comparison at all, but Teresa thought Samantha was a mix of the two of them; dark hair a thick mess of waves, olive skin, and sharp cheekbones set high. Teresa swore when Samantha was concentrated on something or angry or on the verge of tears, it was when she most looked like James. For a long time, it had seemed James’ look of humorless seriousness was his default. It was only in recent years, with their involvement in cartels far behind them, that James’ neutral expression started to match the look of innocence with which he slept.

“I’m okay either way,” James noted. “As long as she’s Sammy.”

One thing Teresa and James were both adamant about was wanting Samantha to grow up to be unapologetically herself and let her light shine, even if it blinded eyes. No compromise. 

“She’s always going to be your little girl, James,” Teresa chuckled. “If you spoil her rotten, she’ll start to think she’s a princess.”

“She _is_ a princess,” James countered.

Teresa rolled her eyes. “You would say that.”

“Says the queen,” James retorted.

Just because she was no longer a queen pin, no longer wearing a white power suit everywhere she went, it didn’t make Teresa any less of a queen in James’ eyes. She was as successful as a legitimate businesswoman as she had been in the underworld, and she was a great mother. It made perfect sense to James that if Teresa was a queen then it only followed that Samantha was a little princess. 

“Are you saying that because you want to be king?” Teresa teased, running her fingers through James’ hair. “You can just say so.”

James cringed and shook his head. Ascending to the throne had never been his ambition or intention. He’d worked his way up in all of the jobs he’d ever had, and the words he’d told himself the first time he did something he would later regret came back to him: _the only way out is up_. He’d learned fast it was how to survive dealing with people like Camila and Devon. Working with Teresa had been different, because they’d built something from the ground up, and built something between them. He’d stayed in the business for what had felt like a lifetime longer than he thought he would. It was because of Teresa. Because once their paths crossed, they intertwined like vines. 

“Not a royal, still just me.” James nuzzled against Teresa’s neck. “Still here, sincere.”

It was a good thing they’d begun falling in love with each other slowly, like osmosis, until one day they’d reached a point where they’d infused themselves into the depths of the other’s heart. It was good, because once they’d intertwined, the only way up and out was together. There would’ve been no Monterey, no Samantha, no presents to hyperventilate over if they hadn’t become each other’s ride or die, literally _and_ figuratively.

“Okay, back to my point,” Teresa settled a hand in between James’ shoulder blades, “you don’t have to try so hard to impress Sammy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re her favorite person in the entire world,” Teresa said. “She _loves_ her daddy. You could have gotten her mulch for her birthday and she’d have gone crazy over the chance to work on the garden with you.”

“First of all, _mulch_?” James squinted like it was a serious suggestion. “And second, I don’t think that’s true – you know all the pictures she colors at teatime are for you, right?”

Samantha was a big proponent of having tea parties, where Milo was served in her Peter Rabbit China set and granola bars substituted for scones. Her daddy and Hermy were her esteemed guests, and James guessed Shep—the newest member of their family—would garner an invitation for the next one. For Samantha, most of teatime was spent working on art rather than drinking the Milo, and each piece was done with the purpose of presenting it to Teresa after. The walls in Teresa’s office were covered in Samantha’s masterpieces.

“Anyway, it’s not a competition,” James added.

(James never mentioned it was with his encouragement that Samantha dedicated all her art to Teresa, or that the neatest pieces were ones he helped with, keeping the colors in the lines. But Teresa was well aware.)

“No, it’s not. We are lucky Sammy loves us both very much,” Teresa agreed. “But the point is…the point is now we’re those parents who’ve gotten their kid a puppy and pony for her fourth birthday. At this rate, we’re gonna get Sammy her own condo in San Francisco when she turns five.”

That earned Teresa a laugh from James. He wrinkled his nose and gave her a quick kiss, and then rearranged them so she was enveloped in his arms.

“I guess we should have gotten her bear spray after all,” he quipped.

“Mmm,” Teresa acknowledged, “it’s not too late. Maybe that’s what we should give her on Saturday.”

Teresa and James wanted to spend the day with Samantha as a family and give her her presents on the actual day of her birthday, but there was still the small matter of her birthday party on the weekend.

“Well, it’s definitely a better suggestion than mulch,” James mumbled.

The Little Tikes Playhouse—one of Samantha’s later requests—was already wrapped, the giant box sitting hidden in the storage closet of the pool house for the party on Saturday.

Teresa smiled and her voice was muffled when she buried her face back in James’ chest, “This is not quite how I expected parenthood would go.”

James was blessed to have grown less jaded as he got older, as he’d made his family. He’d been worried so sick over how complicated his relationship with Teresa was for a long time, worried over how their lives would turn out, back when every action and reaction was tied to survival. But as a husband and a father, he was never weary of where he stood with his girls.

“Yeah,” James agreed fondly, “it’s better.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Story Notes](https://jerepars.tumblr.com/post/643803665244815360/plant-sugar-extended-story-notes) are on tumblr, where I’m [@jerepars](https://jerepars.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Have you ever seen those clips on YouTube where a kid gets so excited over their birthday or Christmas present that they start hyperventilating and bawling because they're so happy? Yeah that's...that's the whole premise. I wrote a long-ass fluff fic because of that.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated. I'd love to know your thoughts. <3


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